The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1887-07-14


Jesus could remove them What though
there were great Saharas of darkness,
Jesus could illume them. What though /
get weary. on the way, Christ could lift
me on his onnipotent shoulder. What
though there were chasms to cross, his
hand could transport me. Then let Steph.
ems prayer be my dying litany:
Lord Jesus, receive my spirit
It may be in that hour we will be too
feeble to say long prayer. It may be in
that hour we will not be able to say the
Lords Prayer" for it has seven petit
tions Perhaps we may be too feeble even
to say the infant prayer our mothers
taught US. which John Quincy Adams,
seventy years of age, said every n light
when he put his head upon his pillow:
Now I lay me down to sleep.
n Ipray the Lord my soul to keep.
We may be too feeble to employ either
of these familiar forms, but this prayer of
Stephen is SO short, is so concise is so
earnest, is so comprehensive, we surely
will be able to say that:
Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.
0, if that prayer is answered, how sweet
it will be to diel This world is clever
enough to US. Perhaps it has treated us
great deal better than we deserved; but
if on the dying pillow there shall break
the light of that better world, we shall
have no more regret about leaving a !,
small, dark, damp house for one large,
beautiful and capacious. That dying min
lister in Philadelphia, some years ago,
beautifully depicted it when, in the last
moment, he threw up his hands and cried
out:
81 move into the Light"
Pass on, now, and will show you one
more picture. and that is Stephen asleep
With pathos and simplicity peculiar TO
the Scriptures, the text says of Stephen:
He fell asleep.
TO-" you say, "what place that was
to sleepl A hard rock under him, stones
falling down upon him, the blood stream
ing, the mob bowling. What place it
was to sieepp' And yet my text takes
that symbol Of s!umber to describe his
departure, so sweet was it; so contented
was it; SO peaceful was it. Stephen had
lived very laborious life. His chief
work had been to care for the poor
How many loaves of bread he distributed,
how many bare feet he had sandaled,
how many cots Of sickness and distress
he blessed with ministries of
kindness and love, / do not know: but
he preached, and the way he died, 1
know he was a laborious Christian But
that is all over now. He has pressed the
cup to the fast fainting lip. He has TAX.
en- the last insult from his enemies The
last stone to whose crushing weight he is
susceptible has been hurledi Stephen is
dead. The disciples come. They take
him up They wash away the blood from
the wounds. They streighten out the
bruised limbs. They brush back the
tangled hair from the brow. and then
they pass around to look upon the calm
countenance of him who had lived for the
poor and died for the truth.
Stephen asleepl I have seen the sea
driven with the hurricane until the tan
gled foam caught in the rigging, and
wave rising above wave seemed as if
about to storm the Heavens, and then i
have seen the tempest drop, and the
waves crouch, and everything become
smooth and FURNISHED as though camp
ing place for the glories of heaven. So L
have seen man, whose life has been
tossed and driven, coming down at last to
an infinite calm In which there was the
hush of Heavens lullaby. Stephen
asleep! l saw such an one He fought
all his days against poverty and
abuse. They traduced his name. They
ratified at the door-knob while he was
dying with duns of debts he could not
pay; yet the peace Of God brooded over
his pillow, and while the world faded,
Heaven dawned, and the deepening twi-
light of earth's night was only the open.
ing twilight of Heavens morn. Not
sigh. Not tear Not a struggle. Hushi
Stephen asleep.
T hor ~ 81, =
er. l can never tell by the setting sun
whether there will be a drought or not.
can not tell by the blowing of the wind
whether it VIII be fair weather or foul
on the morrow. But / can prophesy,
and l will prophesy, what weather
it will be when you, the Christian,
come to die. You may have it very rough
now. 1t may oe this week one annoyance,
the next another annoyance. 1t may be
this year one bereavement, the next an
other Bereavement Before this year has
passed you may have to beg for bread, or
ask Tor scuttle of coal or a pair of shoes:
but spread your death couch amid the
leaves of the forest, or make it out of the
straw of pauper's hut, the wolf of the
jungle bowling close by, or inexorable
creditors jerking the pillow from under
your dying head-Christ will come in
and darkness will go out. And thoug Oh
there may be no hand to close your eyes,
and no breast on which to rest your
dying head, and no candle to lift the
night, the odor Of Gods hanging garden
will regale your soul, and at your bedside
will halt the chariots Of the king. No
more rents to pay, no more agony because
flour has gone up, no more struggle with
"the world, the flesh and the DEVIL" but |
peac,-long, deep, everlasting peace.
stephen sleepi
Asleep in Jesus, blessed sleep.
From which none ever wake to weep:
A calm and undisturbed repose,
Uninjured by the last of foes
Asleep in Jesus, far from thee
Thy kindred and their graves may be;
But there is still o blessed Sleep
From which none ever wake to weep.
You have seen enough for one mornins
No one can successfully examine more |
than five pictures in day. Therefore, we |
stop, having seen this cluster of divine |
Raphaels-Stephen gazing into heaven; |
stephen looking at Christ; Stephen |
stoned; Stephen in his dying prayer;
stephen asleep.
---oA-
Advice to Tired Girls.
Delicate young ladies, whom often the
east exertiOn tires will find that a 1,4%io |